The next morning, a fully dressed Henry rushes down the stairs so quickly he nearly slips on the last step. Emma and Mary Margaret exchange amused glances as he haphazardly slides onto a kitchen stool, thumping his old storybook down loudly onto the countertop.

"Someone's up early," Mary Margaret notes, turning back around to attend to her pan of eggs, sizzling on the stove. Emma grins from behind her morning paper.

"I wanted to get an early start," Henry shrugs, lacing up a shoe.

Oh crap. Emma had nearly forgotten—or, okay, maybe blocked out—about the fact that she's signed up to dig into Hook's past. "Well, breakfast first," she grumbles, taking a strong gulp of her coffee.

"Yeah, yeah," comes Henry's distracted reply, his nose already in the book. Emma even has to clear her throat when the eggs are ready. Begrudgingly, he puts his book to the side so that Mary Margaret can slide a plate in front of him.

"So, what's on the agenda for Operation Kraken?" Emma asks. She raises an eyebrow, watching Henry shovel food into his mouth faster than he can possibly chew. She always forgets how…dedicated he can be.

"Operation Kraken?" Mary Margaret echoes, glancing to Emma curiously. Her lips twitch, which she hides behind her coffee mug. "Are we going fishing?"

A grin tugs at Emma's mouth. "Actually—"

"Mom!" Henry snaps, flushing. He turns to his grandmother with a look that is barely apologetic. "Sorry, Gram, I'd tell you…but this is sensitive information. Strictly need-to-know-basis."

The dark-haired woman's lips form a silent 'o' as a knowing look passes over her face. Emma only shrugs, as if to say what can you do. And it's true—when Henry gets something in his head, there's no getting it out until he sees it all the way through. (As if she has to guess where he gets that from.)

After breakfast, Mary Margaret makes a show of excusing herself, claiming she forgot she has plans to bring coffee to David at the station (it's Emma's day off), but not before casting Emma an unreadable glance, resting somewhere between suspicion and shrewd. Emma isn't particularly eager to guess which it is.

Henry waits a few moments after the front door is shut, regarding it patiently, before turning to Emma with a wicked grin. He flips open his book and pulls out a crudely drawn web chart that he's hidden within the pages. "Okay, I outlined the mission into three phases. Phase One: Test the Waters."

She snorts, realizing she should've seen that one coming. "Seriously?"

He shrugs. "I'm eleven. What do you expect?"

Emma pauses, pretending she isn't amused. This is going to be a long day. "How many puns do you have up your sleeve?"

Grinning, Henry only flips the chart around so that it's facing his mother. "As I was saying. Phase One…"

PHASE ONE: TESTING THE WATERS

"Henry, I really don't know about this," Emma hisses for what feels like the umpteenth time.

Crouched behind an empty crate, Henry only rolls his eyes and passes her a walkie-talkie. At the sight of them, a small smile worms its way onto her face as a wave of nostalgia washes over her. She slips it into her back pocket.

"You know what to do?" Curtly, Emma nods, absently wondering if her son was always so bossy. He then hands over the brown paper shopping bag at his feet.

It's now or never, Henry seems to be saying as his eyes fix expectantly on her. Emma stands abruptly, before she can question it, huffing as she straightens her shoulders.

She arches her back tensely, shooting one last fleeting look at her son, who responds with an eager thumbs up.

She doesn't know why she's so nervous. It's not like she doesn't see Hook on a nearly daily basis anyway—but usually he comes to her, poking his head (or hook) around the station or breaking up the occasional argument when Hook tries to pay for something in doubloons (to which he's always quick to remind her that he needn't be trying to pay at all, if habit were to win out).

But she almost never visits his ship. Not since—No, Emma, she thinks, concentrate.

Hesitantly, she moves up the gangplank, tucking her hair behind her ears as she glances around the deck of the Jolly Roger. "Hook?" Emma calls in a quiet voice. She's sure Henry is watching her with another annoyed expression, mumbling something about her not even trying. She waits a moment for the pirate to materialize, and when he doesn't, she inclines her head out to the docks, where Henry hides, shrugging as if to say well, I tried.

Not wanting to give Hook a chance to show up, she quickly turns on her heel and smacks into something hard. Something that all-too-familiarly smells of rum, spice, leather and salt.

"Going so soon?" comes the low, amused voice of the pirate. His hand is braced along her arm, steadying her.

Slowly, Emma raises her head, locking eyes with Hook. He grins down at her, his expression pleased, and for a moment, she is paralyzed, unable to remember why she is on his ship in the first place, let alone focusing on phase one of Operation Kraken.

"Um," she starts, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "No, I uh—" Emma grips the paper bag in her hand tightly, bringing it up suddenly in front of their faces, effectively putting distance between the two. "Brought you something."

She dangles the bag expectantly. Hook leans back, eying her from around the side of the bag. After a moment of studying her, he clucks his tongue, gingerly taking it from her.

At that moment, Henry seizes an opportunity to cross the ship, moving as silent as a mouse. He flashes Emma an impish grin as he quickly makes his way to the lower stairwell, disappearing below deck.

His back to Henry, Hook drops his nose into the bag, glancing back up at Emma with his eyebrow halfway up his forehead. Dipping his hook down as he grips the bag with his good hand, he pulls out the cotton shirt and inspects it with open disdain. "Darling, this is a bit counterproductive. You're not supposed to be giving me more clothing when—"

"Hook!" Knowing Henry is within earshot, Emma bristles, instantly regretting it. If he wasn't eying her suspiciously before, he certainly is now.

"Right," he deadpans, staring at her for a moment. He licks his lips, flicking his gaze back to the oatmeal-colored Henley shirt draped over his hook. "Well, while I appreciate a gift as much as the next man, I have to admit this is unexpected."

The plan, she tells herself, focus on the plan. Keep Hook distracted.

"They were my dad's," Emma says. She sweeps backwards in the direction of the wheel, lacing her hands behind her back, hoping he'll follow her. "He was throwing them out, and I thought—"

"Oh, that makes it all the bloody better," he sighs heavily, falling in step with Emma as she continues to make her way towards the helm. He actually does seem quite put out by the idea of wearing David's hand-me-downs, though she has a feeling this goes well beyond pride.

"Do you have a problem with the way I dress?" He smirks, but it doesn't reach his eyes. He watches her carefully, and no matter how casually he said it, Emma can't help but feel like there's a lot riding on her answer. She's offended him, but more than that, she's worried him, too. What he's really asking is if she has a problem with his past as a pirate.

She pauses, marching up the rest of the stairs, and leans against the railing so that he'll have to keep his back to the deck, where, with any luck, Henry can sneak back out undetected.

"No, I don't. I just thought you might want them," Emma continues, surprised at how soft her voice has gone, "because…you know, if you're planning on…sticking around…it might be nice to try to, you know, assimilate. I mean, if you want. Or if you're staying, I don't—I don't know. "

This seems to catch Hook off guard, his eyes widening slightly. He scratches the back of his neck, running his tongue along his teeth. "Oh," he says simply, glancing back down at the bag, resting on his hook. "I suppose I can take that into consideration."

From below deck, there is suddenly a thump, followed by the unmistakable clang of something metal falling to the floor.

Hook's ears twitch, eyes narrowing. Just as he is about to whip his neck around, without thinking, Emma's hand flies out and grips the pirate's arm tightly. "There's something else I wanted to talk to you about," she says before her brain can catch up to her mouth.

Slowly, Hook's eyes trail from Emma's hand, up her arm, to her neck, before finally falling on her face and meeting her gaze. He seems to catch the sense of urgency in her voice. An unreadable look passes over his features, and he nods intently. Emma has his full attention now, somehow knowing that Henry could knock over a whole set of cargo boxes and the pirate wouldn't blink.

"I was wondering," she begins, not knowing where she's going with this, her voice rattling, "if—" Hook swallows noticeably. "—you wanted to have dinner tonight. I mean," she hurries to add, "it's family night, so, you know, my parents and Henry would be there, but Henry's been, ah, asking after you anyway, and we never properly thanked you, so…"

Dinner? Dinner?! You had to invite him to dinner, she thinks to herself, not even wanting to imagine what her father's reaction will be.

Usually the captain only ever makes her feel stronger, or bolder, but something about the way he's looking at her now, a way she chooses not to interpret, has her hair on edge and skin white hot.

"Henry's been asking after me?" Hook echoes, a soft smile appearing underneath the stubble. "How is the lad doing?"

"Better," Emma replies honestly. "He's found something to keep him…distracted." Okay, that's an understatement. "Is that a yes?"

"I'd be honored," he chuckles, as if that were obvious. He suddenly beams at her, sharing with her a smile so startling she actually feels her heart skip. This is the beanstalk and Neverland all over again.

At that moment, Henry nimbly hops across the deck, his backpack haphazardly slung over a shoulder. He's not moving his quietest, the floorboards creaking somewhat, but Hook doesn't seem to notice. It isn't until Henry is fully out of sight, ducking around the cannery, that Emma realizes she's still grasping his arm.

She releases it suddenly, her fingers feeling hot.

"Seven," she says, her face struggling to maintain neutral.

"Seven," Hook repeats, still grinning.

By the time Emma makes it back to her car, Henry is already in the passenger seat, drumming his fingers along the cover of his storybook impatiently. "How'd it go?" Emma asks as she slides into her seat, reaching around for her seatbelt.

"Okay," Henry sighs, seeming disappointed as he too buckles up. "Did you know Hook is kind of a neat freak?"

"Yeah," Emma laughs, having spent enough time on the man's ship to realize he could be rather fussy about its maintenance. She puts the bug in gear, turning out of the parking lot. "Did you find anything you were looking for?"

"Not really," Henry replies, his nose scrunched up in thought. "But I didn't really have a lot of time to look around. After I knocked over this globe-thingy I figured I'd better get out fast. I thought for sure he'd heard me. Good job keeping him distracted, though. What'd you say to him?"

Her cheeks burn a little. "Oh, yeah, kid, about that," Emma smiles sheepishly, "I invited him to dinner. Tonight. I kind of panicked."

Henry is silent for an agonizingly long moment, observing her curiously with a tilt of his head. Then, suddenly, his face breaks out into a wide smile. "That's genius! I can't believe I didn't think of that! It'll be a perfect time to employ phase two!"

Oh god. "Phase two?"

His grin is wild and proud. "Yep. Time to cast the bait."

Of course.

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I'm a little rusty so forgive me. I hope no one was too OOC...I know we all love tough, sassy Emma, but if we recall she isn't always the smoothest caught off guard. But spunky Emma will be back next chapter. And so will flirty Killian. Operation Kraken has three phrases, and as Henry said, phase two is called "casting the bait." Heheheh. Reviews make for a faster update!